Bedtime Stories
by sallythedestroyerofworlds23
Summary: Post 686, canon-compliant. Suble but fully intended IchiRuki. Told from Kazui's POV.


**Name:** Kurosaki Kazui

 **Age:** 15

 **Occupation:** High School Student/Shinigami

My name is Kurosaki Kazui. I'm your average high school student, mostly. I'm also a Shinigami -which is basically someone who can help spirits move on to their rightful place. Most Shinigami are spirits themselves, or ghosts, as most people would call them. I'm a little different.

You see, my dad was a human -mostly-. Then he met my Aunt Rukia, who was a full-fledged Shinigami, and she shared her power with him so that he could protect his family and friends. I know the story as well as most people know the tale of Snow White. It was my very own bedtime story- _literally_.

Whenever Dad was the one to put me to bed, he'd tell me that story. He'd never falter as he told it. The words and details flowed with the ease of a veteran storyteller, each time identical to the last; no incongruent pieces caused by a failing memory, and never any exaggerations. The story itself did not need any additional embellishing.

I loved to hear it. Sometimes Dad would only recount how that little Shinigami had appeared in his room and ended up saving him and his family that night. Other times, he would go a little further, to when she moved into his closet for a while. As a kid, I saw the closet itself when we visited Grandpa's house, and at first I couldn't believe that a whole person could comfortably sleep in there. Then I actually met Aunt Rukia, who Is about half the height of a whole person, and I understood.

My favorite part of the story, and the one that Dad only retells on the rarest and most special of occasions, is when he went to the Soul Society to save Aunt Rukia. Thirteen Squads, thirteen captains, thirteen vice captains- Dad had gone against them all just to save her. And, against all odds, he won.

Most days it's hard to imagine what my Dad would have looked like then. He's just a regular middle-aged guy, who goes to work every morning, smiles gently at me and Mom, eats dinner quietly and sits down to watch TV before going to sleep. He's pretty boring actually. Not when he's telling stories though. Those nights, I saw his whole face light up and his voice get stronger as he seemingly relived his youth. That fire was always fleeting though, always replaced by a bland smile the next morning.

The first time I saw Dad looking as lively and animated as he did during the bedtime stories was the first time that Aunt Rukia visited. They argued, a lot. At first I wondered why Dad was so mad at her, but they didn't act like they were angry at each other. After they threw around their harsh words, they would always sit together, and they'd trade glances that seemed to carry no hard feelings. And whenever Aunt Rukia was nearby, even when they weren't talking, Dad seemed a little taller, and a little brighter somehow. I could almost picture what he'd looked like in his stories.

Ichika tried to picture it too. Ichika is my best friend by the way, and she's a full Shinigami too. She's also Aunt Rukia's daughter. She's heard the same stories I have, from her mom. One day she showed up in my room and showed me a drawing of an orange-haired bear dressed in black Shinigami robes, holding a huge sword that was shaped like a butcher knife in one hand, and a black-haired bunny dressed in white in the other hand. I had stared at the drawing for a really, really long time, until Ichika, who does not hold patience as a very high virtue, had finally snapped.

" _What do you think?"_

" _What is it supposed to be?"_ Kazui had asked.

Then she had explained -non-too-happily- that it was our parents, on the day that my Dad had saved her mom from being executed. I don't think that my Dad would have looked so… Bear-like. But I guess it was a good way to imagine the scene.

I've got the drawing folded up inside my schoolbag now. It's been stuffed in a drawer in my room for years now, and time definitely took its toll on the quality of the art; not that there had been much quality in the first place. Still, I feel like now is a good time to have it.

"Hey!" Ichika breaks me out of my revelry with her enthusiastic greeting. She's dressed in a pretty sundress instead of her usual black robes, betraying the fact that she chose to don a gigai for the day. She's actually been passing as human for the past week, having stayed in my house the entire time. Dad had complained that Mom now had another mouth to feed because Aunt Rukia couldn't take care of her own kid, but Ichika hadn't taken the least bit of offense. Dad is almost as fond of Ichika as he is of me. Sometimes I think that even more so, but that might be because Ichika keeps saying so and I may have internalized it a little bit.

"Took ya long enough to get here, slowpoke!" Ichika reprimanded me.

I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair, messing it up even more than it already was. "I can only walk so fast. Karakura High is pretty far from the hospital you know."

"Aren't you a Shinigami?" Ichika didn't relent.

"I'm not supposed to change into a Shinigami for my own convenience all the time," I said, a lesson that had been repeatedly ingrained into my head by both of my parents.

"Wimp," Ichika, ever so tactful, scoffed. "Well, come on, everyone is waiting."

With that, I followed Ichika through the glass doors at the entrance of Karakura General Hospital. We traced a familiar path across the lobby and towards the elevator, then up to floor number 7. We had been coming here every afternoon for the past week. Some of the nurses recognized us by now; a few of them waved at us, many with poorly concealed sympathy in their eyes.

I reached room 929. Ichika was the one to open the door and enter first, with me trailing behind. I was greeted by a room stuffed with familiar faces.

I saw my dad's friends: Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro all huddled together by the window of the single-occupancy room (a perk of being friends with one of the doctors, by the way). Aunt Karin and Yuzu were squished together in the only arm chair available. Chad stood ever silent against the wall opposite to the patient's bed. Mom sat on the bed, her long hair shielding part of her face before she turned from the patient to see the new-arrivals.

"Yo!" I greeted happily at everyone.

Most of them smiled back happily, though I saw a few watery eyes around the room- especially from Aunt Yuzu and Keigo. Mom's cheeks were covered with freely-spilled tears. She hurriedly wiped at her face when she saw me and gave me her brightest smile.

"Kazui! How was school?" she asked, as if I was coming home after a regular day and not to gather around a sickbed.

I shrugged, deciding to humor her for her benefit more than mine. "Pretty good, but I bed Tsubaki has already filled you in on all the details."

This got a giggle from her, and I smiled back. Then another voice spoke up.

"Oi, aren't you gonna say hi to me?"

I looked at Dad, propped up on the bed by a bunch of clumsily arranged pillows. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face looked drawn. There seemed to be at least a dozen cables and tubes attached to his arms; the beeping noises of the machinery wasn't so loud today though, thanks to the sounds of the many visitors.

"Hi, Dad," I smirked.

"Better," he huffed, and he looked like a tough parent for about half a second before he slumped back against the pillows.

I'd intended to show dad Ichika's drawing. If nothing else, I figured it might get a good laugh. He only seemed to be half awake though, and barely even that. It didn't feel like the right time.

It didn't take long for the lull of conversation to take over the room. The chatter was pleasant, with the constant beeping of the machines always somewhere in the background. I went to stand beside Mom and put a hand on her shoulder. Out of everyone, I'm sure that she was taking this the hardest.

I can't say why -maybe it's part of the Shinigami thing, the connection to death- but I had had a feeling that today would be the day. It seems I was right.

We all knew when the nurse came in and we saw her face fall just before she muttered something about getting Dr. Ishida.

When Ishida arrived, there was none of that sense of urgency one would expect in this situation. Everyone had known for a while that this was inevitable. Plus, more than any other group of people, the ones in this room knew that life and death were only different, temporary states of being. I've been seeing the dead all my life. My best friend is basically a ghost. It's not that I'm not sad. I just know that this isn't an end.

I don't cry when I hear the flatline. Mom hugs me, and I hug her back while she cries, hoping that it's enough to comfort her. I hear some sniffles behind me, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Ichika rubbing at her eyes and scowling, quite obviously trying to look like she's not on the verge of crying.

It doesn't take too long before someone else suddenly stands in the room. I know him, I have known him all my life, but as familiar as he looks, it's also like looking at a different person.

Dad is standing next to the bed now, dressed all in black robes, a sword at his back, his hair longer and his entire frame taking up double the space as that of the body in bed.

For a full minute, I can only look at him with my mouth open.

He smiles at me, and when Mom manages to calm herself somewhat and look at him, he smiles at her too. There is silence around the room, and I'm not immediately certain of what we're waiting for. Then, I hear another familiar voice, and it's suddenly very obvious what we were waiting for.

"Ichigo," Aunt Rukia stands in the window frame, her white captain's robe flowing in a gentle breeze. She is smiling, her eyes, so very like Ichika's, are bright and focused on one person only.

Dad turns to look up at her, and suddenly I can see it as clearly as if I had been there: my dad as a fifteen-year-old boy, holding a sword and fighting his way through a dozen armies just to protect the woman who stands before him.

I notice the others in the room quietly averting their eyes, as if giving them their privacy. I look at Mom and see her give the smallest of smiles, and something like resignation in her eyes. I see Ichika, looking as awed as I feel.

"Yo," Dad says, a grin splitting his face. His eyes glow like they did when he told me the story, and I know that all the rest of the world has fallen away at this moment.

I know I should be sad. That feeling doesn't come as I watch my Dad follow Aunt Rukia into the Gate leading to Soul Society. I think of the drawing in my bag with renewed fondness.

Ichika moves a little closer to me, and I take her hand. It's hard to find the right words in this situation: a kind of goodbye, a kind of grief, a kind of understanding.

The last thing we see is my Dad and Aunt Rukia standing side by side, turning just slightly so they can look at each other as the doors of the Senkaimon slide to a close.

I know I should be sad. But I can't help but smile as I watch my Dad finally getting home.


End file.
